


Watch Me Burn

by sarcasticsra



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, reference to animal euthanasia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darkness and over-the-top evil: a ficmix for Larry Sizemore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Me Burn

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY. Now that this is done, maybe Larry will shut the hell up for awhile. Thanks for the beta, Kelly.

[ ](http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y83/sarcasticsra/?action=view&current=larryficmixfrontcover.png)

     [ ](http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y83/sarcasticsra/?action=view&current=larryficmixbackcoversameoptionthree1.png)    [ ](http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y83/sarcasticsra/?action=view&current=larryficmixbackcoverpart21.png)  


  
**Scrooge + The Muppet Christmas Carol**   


_He must be so lonely, he must be so sad  
He goes to extremes to convince us he's bad  
He's really a victim of fear and of pride  
Look close and there must be a sweet man inside_  


The man smiles at him, and Lawrence isn’t sure why he’s so unsettled by that smile. “Can I help you with anything else?” he asks, cautiously.

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he says. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Garber, sir,” he replies, confused. “Lawrence Garber.”

“Garber,” the man says, almost experimentally. “Larry Garber. I like that.”

“Thank you?” he says, and the man smiles again.

“No, no,” he replies, and suddenly Lawrence can barely breathe, shockwaves of pain reverberating throughout his body. His eyes flick downward, to the knife plunged into his chest. “Thank _you_.”

_Naaaaaaah (uh uh)_

+

**Devil in a Midnight Mass + Billy Talent**

_Violent knight at the edge of your knife  
Forgive me Father ... won't make it right  
Silent night for the rest of my life  
Silent night at the edge of your knife  
(You're guilty!)  
A devil in a midnight mass  
Killed the boy inside the man  
The holy water in his hands_

Larry hates the word _innocent_.

He doubts the reality of the term, because he has yet to meet one damn person who might qualify for that label. It’s an irrelevant ideal, handed out to those select few considered _pure_ , and all it does is make you more likely to overlook and underestimate.

He sees it for what it is: a rationalization, a line fed to the fresh meat so they don’t bolt. _We never hurt the innocent._

It makes him laugh. Innocence, by these standards, is fragile and fleeting. According to them, _he_ was innocent once.

Now look at him.

_Can never wash away his sins_

+

**Boring + P!nk**

_You're scrumptious  
I kinda like it  
I'm indecisive  
I change my mind a lot  
But you're hot (you're so hot)  
But I think you kinda know it  
Really hopin’ you don't blow it  
So bring it!  
You’re tired?_

He’s pretty sure Melinda isn’t her real name.

He never really saw himself as _the marrying kind_. Women mostly bore him. Sex is fun, sure, but with men, it’s more than that: a tool, a weapon, to dominate, to control. With men, it’s _satisfying_. With women, it’s biological. Boring.

That’s not really different with Melinda—they only actually fuck a couple times. The marriage is a sham to help sell a con. It ends up being convenient, and he likes her.

He’d stab her in the back if he needed to. That’s fair, though; she’d do the same to him.

_Boring!_

+

**To Another Abyss + Bad Religion**  


_And you know that it’s such a bitch  
When you learn to scratch that itch  
Of blatant fallibility  
Sooner to some, but eventually  
All gets pointed in the same direction  
While the human masses and their vague conceptions  
Obliterate each other with impunity_

Larry doesn’t trust the CIA.

They have their uses, and he likes his job—for the most part. He thinks they tend to soft-foot it when they need to hit the gas, and bureaucracy can always go to hell, but it challenges him, he gets to travel, and the perks are nice.

Maybe one day, a long time ago, he might have bought into the bullshit patriotism crap, but he’s way past that now. He’s useful to them, and he’ll stick around as long as he stays useful.

He’s letting them think he’s a company man. It works for now.

_And you wonder, “what’s in this for me?”_

+

**Instinct + Crowded House**

_I lit the match  
I lit the match  
I saw another monster turn to ash  
Felt the burden lifted from my back  
Do you recognize the nervous twitch  
That exposes the weakness of the myth  
When your turn comes 'round  
And the light goes on  
And you feel your attraction again_

He sees such _potential_ in Michael, that bright spark of anger lurking just beneath the surface, trying to find the way out. Some careful cultivation and that pretty little ember will blossom into a full blown conflagration, a towering inferno of rage. He and Michael will devour entire cities, leaving nothing but a swath of twisted, broken bodies and scorched earth in their wake.

At least, that’s the plan, right up until Michael meets _him_ , and all his hard work starts circling the drain.

He _knew_ he should have killed Sam Axe back in ’84 when he had the chance.

_Your instinct can't be wrong_

+

**I Will Not Bow + Breaking Benjamin**

_Save your breath, it's far from over  
Leave the lost and dead behind  
Now's your chance to run for cover  
I don't want to change the world  
I just wanna leave it colder  
Light the fuse and burn it up  
Take the path that leads to nowhere  
All is lost again_

Larry has made up his mind: he’s not going to be their puppet anymore.

They’re full of shit, calling the shots like they have any fucking clue. These are _his_ skills, _his_ instincts—what the hell does he need them for, telling him where to go and what to do?

He’s done being their little errand boy. The strings have been cut, the line has been drawn in the sand; there’s no going back. He’s his own man, and he’s going to do things _his_ way—whether they like it or not.

He dares them to try and stop him.

_But I’m not giving in_

+

**One More Murder + Better Than Ezra**

_One more murder in this town  
It don't mean a thing  
Just lock your doors and drive around  
One more murder in this town  
Don't worry, the rain will wash the chalk marks  
From the ground  
Saturday night, shot ring out_

They’re trying to play it like he’s out of control. So he killed a few people he wasn't strictly authorized to kill—so what? They’re going to start getting sentimental _now_? He's the one out in the field, doing the dirty work, seeing what's really going on. He's the one who should be able to make that call, and fuck the bureaucracy. The ends justify the means, after all. Isn’t that what they always say?

He should’ve known they’d be pissed that he finally decided to break free, but it doesn’t matter.

He’s got his exit strategy already in place.

_Add one to the body count_

+

**Burn + Three Days Grace**

_I'll tell you now you can't win this  
‘Cause you're way too slow  
I'll tell you now I'm gonna take this  
Did you come here to watch me, watch me burn?  
I'll let it show that I'm not always hiding  
Come all the way down  
And watch me burn  
I won't let it show that I'm not always flying  
So on the way down_

They’re in fucking Russia. That’s what gets him. It’s the goddamn underground bunker capital of the _world_ , and no one has managed to find the one under this building. Then again, they aren’t looking for it, they don’t have his contacts, and he didn’t get this job because of his smile.

It _is_ a great smile, though, and he shoots his witnesses—you need to have plenty of those when you’re faking your death—one last wide, white-toothed grin before heading into the oil refinery.

When the first explosion goes off, far above his head, he leans back and laughs.

_I'll watch you burn_

+

**What a Fucking Lovely Day! + Stephin Merritt**  


_What a fucking lovely day  
Everything has gone my way  
All my flags are unfurled  
I'm the king of the world  
And to think it's only May  
It's my favorite time of year  
For a spree of crime and fear  
It's a joy just to breathe and to scheme and deceive_

He feels like a new man.

With his contacts, getting out of Russia will be a breeze, as will avoiding anyone from his _former life_. Everyone swallows his death hook, line, and sinker, but then, he knew they would.

He’s got his skills, his instincts, and a fledgling network of connections that will have to be beefed up now that he doesn’t have his government job anymore. That’s the easy part, though, and it’s all looking up from here.

He robs and kills a man just before leaving the country, in celebration.

Now it’s time to make some money.

_What a fucking lovely day!_

+

**Land of the Dead + Voltaire**

_In the Land of the Dead  
Heck, boy, ain't it grand?  
I'm the Overlord of the Underworld  
'Cause I hold Horror's Hand  
In the Land of the Dead  
I'm dark side royalty  
I'm far renowned in the underground_

Starting a new business is tough in any economy.

Larry thinks there are a few tricks to succeeding, though: first, you have to have a good product or service, one that people are always going to need. You also have to really _enjoy_ your work, be committed.

Marketing’s important, too. Have to get the word out, make sure you build up a solid reputation—and live up to that reputation.

Smirking, he casually doses his latest _deadee’s_ drink, then retreats to the shadows to watch. In an hour, he’ll be fifty grand richer.

It feels good to be on top.

_And you can't take that away from me_

+

**Oh No You Didn’t + Wojahn Brothers**

_Oh no you didn’t!  
After I deliver  
Your blood will be a river of red  
Oh no you didn’t!  
Better beware  
When no one’s there to defend you!  
Oh no you didn’t!  
So many ways to kill_

He does _not_ suffer fools. The quicker that part of his reputation spreads, the better, and he’ll use whatever method necessary to be sure it does. Poisons make easy for-hire work; guns will do in a pinch; but his favorite, oh, his favorite are _knives_. Knives are for when you want to get up close and personal, for when you want to see the fear and watch the life drain from their eyes.

Those kills are the most fun, letting his anger consume him, unleashing the fire, letting _go_.

It’s good business. It sends a message.

And it’s fucking _beautiful_.

_It’s gonna be a thrill to end you_

+

**Yer Majesty + Shinedown**

_You know I'm coming for you  
'Cause I got nothing to lose  
And now I'm still on my way for the pay  
So you wanted to be free from everything you've done to me?  
And you wanted to be known so you wouldn't feel so alone?  
And you wanted to believe that you still had integrity?_

At first, it just hurts, watching Michael bottle up the best parts of himself, playing at being a boy scout. He has such a well of darkness, of perfect, destructive, _gorgeous_ anger, and what does he do? Pretend he’s a choir boy. It’s sickening.

Then comes betrayal after betrayal, and Larry cuts him some slack, he does—there’s nobody else he’d let get away with stealing _ten cents_ from him, let alone two million dollars—but sending him to that Albanian hellhole prison, that he can’t abide. He has to end him.

It’ll be like putting down a sick dog.

_And I'm sorry you're on your knees, but you can't blame me, yer majesty_

+

**Crash Goes My World + Cadence Grace**

_Bang, bang, bang, bang  
Bang goes my universe  
Boom, boom, boom  
Crash goes my world  
Bang, bang, bang, bang  
Bang goes my universe  
Boom, boom, boom_

Larry’s not stupid. He’s always been aware that when he goes out, he’s going out in a huge fucking blaze of glory, and it’s probably going to be at someone else’s hand. He does still have a _few_ enemies left alive, after all.

Still, he never expected it to be this soon, and he certainly never expected it to be _her_ , Fiona fucking Glenanne. If he cared about irony or poetic justice, it might amuse him.

He notices the cyclonite too late. Her finger is already on the detonator.

His last thought is simply: _Well, at least it’s not **Sam**._

_Crash goes my world_

+

**Freak Like Me + Halestorm**

_So shout if you’re a freak like me  
You were born to burn  
This is no disease, you don’t need a cure!  
It’s our time now to come out!  
If you’re a freak like me!  
If you’re a freak like me!  
We’re underground but we will not surrender  
We’re gonna give them something to remember, yeah  
So write your name in gasoline_

“If it isn’t my long lost ex-husband,” she says, and he smirks, dropping onto the stool beside her.

“Melinda,” he says, in greeting.

“Annabella,” she corrects, smirking. “I heard you were dead.”

He snorts. “I’d eliminate _that_ contact.”

“ _Then_ I heard you were still working.” She grins. “What brings you to Miami? Business or pleasure?”

“Actually, a little of both.” He licks his lips.

“Your ex,” she says, nodding, and doesn’t miss the flash of rage in his eyes. Hot. She picks up her drink. “Plan on leaving the city standing?”

“We’ll see,” he says, grinning viciously.

They clink glasses.

_And set that shit on fire_

**++[DOWNLOAD](http://www.mediafire.com/?33s658beeo8ob28)++**  



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